


Star Wars Seemed Approrpiate

by morrezela



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining Derek, Scents & Smells, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had a bit of a wolf crush on Stiles and his scent. Derek was not so good at doing anything about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Wars Seemed Approrpiate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orbiting_saturn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_saturn/gifts).



> Many thanks to Anna for the beta!
> 
> All mistakes you fine are my own.

The universe hated Derek Hale. It simply did. He had no other explanation for why his life was the absolute shit fest that it was. If he dared to solve one problem, two more would pop up in its place – like his life was a video game bent on being an unbeatable challenge.

“Quit being grumpy,” Cora hissed as she maneuvered their shopping cart through the grocery store.

“I’m not being grumpy,” Derek muttered.

Cora lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him and went back to staring at the canned goods. Then she paused and delicately sniffed the air. The look on her face turned into a smug, almost mischievous smile.

“I guess your nose is still the best, huh?” she asked, grin sharp even though her teeth remained steadfastly human.

Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His shirt still clung tightly to his biceps, though there was a bit more give in the fabric than there had been when he had been an alpha. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like any of his pack had been impressed by his physicality.

“Oh my god, do you two ever have conversations? Or do you communicate solely with eyebrow twitches?” Stiles asked as his cart squeaked up beside theirs.

“We were discussing dinner,” Derek lied flatly.

“Were we?” Cora asked, voice sly. It reminded Derek of why Laura had been his favorite sister.

Stiles, being Stiles, wasn’t slow to pick up the innuendo in Cora’s tone.

“Dude, if you’re looking for another girlfriend, can you at least pay for a background check this time?” Stiles suggested with an infuriating smirk of his own.

Derek wanted to bite that look off his face, then lick it all better. He was completely aware of just how inappropriate that was, so he glared at Stiles instead. Thankfully, Stiles didn’t appear to notice. There was, despite what the internet liked to say, a perk to having a resting bitch face.

“Can you hand me the canned peas?” Stiles asked Cora when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to move her cart.

“Who eats canned peas?” she asked as she handed him two cans.

“I like them,” Derek reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, ‘Who eats canned peas?’”

“Funny,” Derek said. He would wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but Stiles was smiling and absently nodding his head. Derek didn’t seem in immediate danger of slipping even farther down in Stiles’s estimation of him.

“You coming to Scott’s on Friday?” Stiles asked, eyes settling firmly on Derek for the first time. It would make Derek’s heart flutter, but he hadn’t been that kind of wolf for a long time.

“Yes,” he answered shortly.

Stiles rocked back on his heels and shot Cora a look that clearly meant, “How do you live with this guy?” before plastering an insincere smile on his face. “I guess I’ll see you then,” he said as he pushed his squeaking cart out of the aisle and made his way over to the dairy section.

Derek and Cora’s heads followed his progress, turning in unison as if they could see as well as hear his movements. If they were with another member of the pack, they’d probably get accused of being creepy. But what did bitten wolves know anyway? Not a lot.

“So are you still going with the pining until you’re so old you need Cialis plan?” Cora asked as she started putting a frightening number of creamed corn cans in their cart.

“I won’t need Cialis,” Derek grumbled as he helped fetch the other items on their list. There was no point in denying his attraction to Stiles. Anyone else he could fool. But Cora had been a werewolf all her life. She knew what certain pheromones meant. She knew when to sniff for compatible hormones.

She also knew the urge that came just from smelling a person that appealed to the baser instincts that lay curled up inside. The need to court by displays of strength, the desire to bite at the back of a neck or the urge to roll over bare one's own neck: they were all part of a born wolf that bitten ones might never understand. Bitten wolves had dissonance built into their very being. Anything that was not inherently human was something they fought with or ignored.

“You know he’s interested,” Cora said as she started pushing their cart towards another section of the store.

“Stiles gets interested in cucumbers if he looks at them too long,” Derek muttered.

“Are you sure it’s just hormones?” Cora asked .

Derek shrugged. “You think that he has any interest in me as a person? I’m a convenient ally in an inconveniently attractive form. That isn’t a good basis for starting anything. Not when Scott’s grip on being an alpha is so tenuous.”

Cora didn’t say anything in reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Derek!” Scott greeted the door with enthusiasm that Derek could almost believe was genuine. It was almost surreal how much Scott’s attitude had changed towards Derek since they had defeated the alpha pack. Perhaps it was Derek’s willingness to sacrifice his power to save his sister. Maybe it was the alpha in Scott appreciating Derek cowing to his direction and morality.

Scott would no doubt be unhappy with the mere thought of the idea that he was pleased with Derek kowtowing to him. The mere mention of it would probably send him into some sort of tailspin that would end in him trying to show Derek how to be independent and a lecture on individuality. Derek wasn’t keen on having to go through that, so he avoided even hinting at the possibility that Scott’s instincts had any play in his reactions.

“What do you need?” Derek asked instead as he walked into the house. He kicked off his shoes, mindful of the fact that Melissa disapproved of shoes being worn in her house unless there was a bona fide emergency happening.

Scott shifted and looked uncomfortable. “What makes you think I want something?” he asked, sounding as unconvincing as a toddler telling his first lie.

“You invited me over for pizza,” Derek replied. There were functions that Derek was invited to and ones that he wasn’t. Scott’s pizza and a movie nights were always on the ‘not’ list. Derek didn’t take it personally. He didn’t give the impression that he cared for pizza, movies or general inactivity.

Scott’s face crumbled like he had thought he would get by with his attempt at deception.

“Deaton said there is some delegation of werewolves coming to meet me,” Scott explained awkwardly. “There was something about secret werewolf rituals?”

“Is there going to be blood?” Stiles interrupted from where he was sitting on the couch.

“No, there won’t be blood,” Derek said reflexively as he tried to remember the stories that his mother had told Laura about packs and rituals. The details were hazy. Even Laura had never paid much attention to Talia’s history lesson on the subject.

Taking over a territory was ignored so long as the succeeding alpha was a member of the pack. The only reason the alpha pack had showed up to wreak havoc had been because of Derek’s weakness and his lineage.

The Hale bloodline had been revered by many packs. If Scott was anything other than a true alpha, he would be facing a rather stern review. At the very least, there would be posturing and threats.

But Scott did not need to know about that. He was a true alpha, and he had not been the cause of Derek’s downfall as an alpha. If anybody asked Derek’s betas, he’d guarantee that all of them would vouch that he hadn’t had far to go when he fell from grace. Derek was a fantastic beta as far as the more established werewolf community was concerned. But he was never meant to be an alpha. There was no point in lying to himself about that. 

“Well?” Stiles prompted impatiently, snapping Derek out of his thoughts. He looked agitated in a way that wasn’t his normal state of restlessness.

“It’s nothing terrible,” Derek informed them as he moved to sit on the chair situated the farthest away from Stiles. He didn’t need Stiles’s scent distracting him from his thoughts. “A big part of taking over a territory is proving that you are the best alpha for the region. You should make sure that you go out into the preserve, mark borders. I can show you where my mother used to put them if you’re not sure what you want to claim.”

“Does he have to pee on trees?” Stiles asked, earning him a soft punch on the arm from Scott.

Derek nodded his gravely. “Absolutely.” The look on Scott’s face at his words was worth the strain of keeping a straight face. After a couple seconds, Derek let his face ease into something closer to a smile than he had been wearing for the past few years.

“You liar,” Stiles scoffed, throwing a throw pillow at Derek’s face.

  
“Hey, that’s my mom’s,” Scott protested.

“They’re called ‘throw’ pillows for a reason,” Stiles dismissed with a lazy wave. “So what do we have to do besides make Scott run around the woods?”

“Werewolves… born werewolves,” Derek corrected himself hesitantly, “are more reliant on their sense of smell than you’re used to, Scott. There are nuances that we’ll have to work on.”

“Is nuanced smell code words for me having to sniff butts?” Scott asked, looking scandalized.

Derek decided that alpha or no, Scott didn’t deserve to have a verbal answer to his question. He regretted the decision when a second later, a burst of highly interested hormones floated over from the couch. Stiles could get turned on by the strangest things. The facial expression Derek assumed when doubting someone’s intelligence seemed to be a favorite.

If Derek was a bit more vain, he would wonder if Stiles sometimes tried to annoy him just to get off on it. But Derek wasn’t that vain, and he therefore was not going to think about Stiles purposely doing anything to him.

“Okay, so just like, pheromone control?” Scott asked, looked relieved.

Derek nodded.

“Great,” Stiles said, clapping his hands together with a loud slap. “Can we order pizza now? The rest of the guests are going to start arriving soon, and I don’t want to have to deal with them on empty stomachs.”

“I should go,” Derek said, standing at the same time Stiles did.

“You’re not staying for pizza and movie night?” Scott sounded disappointed when he spoke.

The wolf part of Derek whined at having so obviously upset the alpha. He squashed on the impulse ruthlessly. “I assumed that I was only invited over for this chat,” he stupidly lied.

“A ‘chat’ that you didn’t even know we were going to have?” Stiles questioned almost immediately.

Derek desperately wanted to growl at him in retaliation. “And whose fault is it that I didn’t know about the meeting? I have a phone; you could have texted.”

“We just found out today,” Scott soothed.

Derek jabbed a finger at Stiles. “He made a point to make sure I was coming today. That was on Tuesday.”

“You did?” Scott asked his friend. The surprise on his face seemed genuine yet accusatory.

“I was getting groceries and thought I’d be nice,” Stiles defended himself.

“You never grocery shop on Tuesdays,” Scott shot back as if it was somehow a problem that Stiles had deviated from his regular food purchasing routine.

“Dad used up the last of the mustard,” Stiles said. Derek didn’t need to be a werewolf to hear the lie in his voice.

Bizarrely, Scott just smiled at Stiles and then at Derek. “Why don’t you two go set the table while I order the food?”

Stiles opened his mouth as if to argue about something, but shut it when Scott gave him a meaningful look. Stiles stalked off to the kitchen, and Derek trailed after him. Whatever was going on, not even Derek’s sensitive nose could figure it out from scent alone, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

The instant they arrived in the kitchen, Stiles started slamming cupboard doors open and closed as he pulled out plates, silverware and napkins with the kind of familiarity that most friends would not have with their best friend’s kitchen.

“Are you just going to stand there being silent? Because I’ve got to tell you, that’s still creepy,” Stiles said as he started pulling glasses out of the cupboards as well.

“It seemed like the better option over asking you why you’re angry about having to set a table with me,” Derek informed him in as bored of a tone as he could manage.

“I’m not angry,” Stiles retorted.

Derek just raised his eyebrows at the statement.

“Werewolves,” Stiles muttered. “Look. Scott is a busybody.”

“Busybody,” Derek repeated back to him.

“Yes. A busybody.”

Derek dragged his gaze up and down Stiles. “Scott is a busybody.”

“Yes. He is,” Stiles replied tersely.

“If Scott is a busybody, what does that make you?” Derek teased.

Stiles glared at him and started slamming dinnerware around again.

Derek sighed and gently took the dinner plates out of Stiles’s hands before he broke them. “Is this about your attraction to me?” he asked as he set them down on the counter.

“What?” Stiles spluttered, hands jerking in the air as if they were receiving too many signals at once and proper gestures couldn’t be made. “I’m not attracted to you. I mean, of course I’m attracted just not to you, you. Like your body you - not the scowling, brooding, mono-syllabic you that randomly shows up in dark alleys like a shorter, stubblier Batman.”

“I’m not short,” Derek half-heartedly retorted as he pushed his way into Stiles’s personal space.

“That’s what you’re going to complain about?” Stiles asked as he stubbornly stood still.

“You don’t grocery shop on Tuesdays, but I do,” Derek said.

“Dammit,” Stiles swore. “You are not supposed to catch on that quickly to things.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Derek retorted.

“Yeah? Like what?” Stiles challenged.

“I can do a backflip,” Derek stupidly replied. He didn’t know what he was thinking, getting so far into Stiles’s personal space. His impulse control over his dick was spotty at best.

“That is a surprise to no one,” Stiles scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you do backflips when you go shopping for underwear. And I did not just bring up underwear because…”

Derek shoved him up against the counter. His mouth found Stiles’s and his thigh shoved between Stiles’s legs without any conscious thought of his own. Stiles’s fingers tangled in Derek’s hair, tugging at the strands as he pushed up, grinding his dick against Derek’s thigh.

The plates that Derek had so carefully preserved made a sharp clink as they collided with the glasses that were sitting next to them. Derek ignored the sound, instead dragging his mouth away from Stiles’s lips so he could bite at the column of his throat.

“Whoa,” Stiles rasped dazedly as he pushed at Derek’s chest, “not that I’m complaining, but we’re dry humping in Scott’s kitchen.”

As far as moment killers went, Derek had both heard and experienced far worse. But Stiles did have a point.

“So. Um. I might like you for more than your impossibly muscular ass,” Stiles admitted.

“I know,” Derek replied.

“Did you just _Star Wars_ me?” Stiles questioned.

“I just dry humped you in your best friend’s kitchen. It smells like we did more. Star Wars seemed appropriate,” Derek answered.

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“So do I,” Derek admitted.

“At least you already know my criminal record because you’ve played a part in most of it,” Stiles grumbled.

“And he’s going to play an even bigger part if you have sex in there!” Scott shouted from the other room.

“Quit cock blocking me!” Stiles shouted back before looking back at Derek with a less certain look.

“We should go out sometime,” Derek said impulsively.

“You mean in a way that isn’t mutually creeping on each other?” Stiles clarified.

“Yes,” Derek agreed.

Stiles gave what Derek thought was supposed to be a flirty wink.

Derek wondered what the hell his hormones had gotten him into this time.


End file.
